The Finest Hours by Michael J. Tougias Page B

capsized, that would be the end. The crewmen told Captain Paetzel that if he didn’t jump first, they’d throw him over.
    The Mercer men—Paetzel, Turner, Guldin, and Fahrner—now moved out on the heaving deck, peering down at the lifeboat bobbing wildly in the waves below. It would be a long drop to the water. If they jumped into the trough of a wave, it would be approximately a 60-foot free fall, but if they sprang into a wave top, it would be only about 20 feet.
    Ensign Kiely looked up at Captain Paetzel and signaled him to jump. Paetzel had reluctantly agreed to go first, but now he must have wondered if he was jumping to his death. The lifeboat below looked like a child’s toy, insignificant against the towering seas.
    Paetzel waited for a wave crest to rise up toward him. Then he jumped. He hit the water several feet from the lifeboat, first plunging completely underwater before the buoyancy of his lifejacket brought him back to the surface. The shock took his breath away and sent pain screaming through his body. He bobbed in the life-robbing seas, his arms already weak and growing numb. Precious seconds went by as he watched the lifeboat crew struggle to turn the boat toward him.
    Kiely and crew did their best to maneuver the pitching lifeboat alongside the captain without hitting him. A minute had passed since the captain landed in the ocean, and they could see he was coughing up seawater. When they were an arm’s length away, one of the coasties grabbed Paetzel’s lifejacket, pulling him toward the boat. The waterlogged clothing on the captain doubled his weight, and at least three of the coast guardsmen used their combined strength to yank him on board.
    During this time, Kiely did his best to keep the lifeboat clear of the ship’s steel hull. Now that the captain was safely on board, he turned the boat and came around again to a position below the three remaining crewmembers. It was Turner’s time to leap, and the purser waited on the sloping ship’s deck for Kiely’s signal. He had seen the difficulty the coasties had maneuvering to the captain, and he hoped they would be able to get to him without incident. Watching the little Monomoy surfboat below, he must have wondered how the men on board were managing to keep it upright in such large seas.
    Kiely motioned for him to jump, and Turner did, trying to time his leap with the upward advance of a wave and clear the Mercer ’s hull with room to spare. As Turner plunged into the seas, a wave lifted the lifeboat high in the air, and a following wave sent it flying toward him. There was only an instant to make a lunge for Turner, but the young coasties grabbed the purser as they swept by. As the men were trying to drag Turner aboard, the lifeboat slammed into the hull of the half tanker.
    The jolt almost knocked the coast guardsmen out of the boat, but they kept their grip on Turner and hauled him up. The lifeboat, however, did not fare as well. Its wooden side was crushed, and water came cascading in over the broken gunnel, or rim. The added weight of the water, along with that of Paetzel and Turner, made the boat ride low, and Kiely had trouble controlling the vessel.
    The lifeboat was sinking!
    Kiely knew he’d have to abort the rescue or risk losing all six men on board the lifeboat. Captain Naab realized the same, and over the loudspeaker, he ordered Kiely to return. The young ensign, overwhelmed at having to leave men still on the hulk, had tears in his eyes, but he turned the tiny craft back toward the Yakutat and ever so slowly began navigating through the seas toward safety.
    â€œI kept expecting our boat to capsize,” said Carmichael. “We were very low in the water, and the seas were coming in the boat, entering over the sides and through cracks in the hull. The survivors lay on the bottom of the boat in the sloshing water, where they had collapsed.”
    When the lifeboat reached the cutter,